I apologize for not posting last week. With Christmas, our house was chaos and I can barely remember what day it is.
I don’t really know why we jump from mild confusion to total chaos every time a major holiday comes. It’s not like we do much. We had our Christmas Eve service at church, came home and pretended to debate about the order of events, and unanimously voted to open presents that evening. (Spoiler: there were enough movies for everyone, I got two ((two!)) books, and Nina was the only person to receive a sharp object, unlike last year.)
Christmas Day saw myself as the only offspring coherent before nearly noon. I complained internally about it at the time, but it meant I got off easy with the clean-up. We ate, we napped, and Mom watched nearly all of our new movies while testing out her new coloring book (for which I take proud credit). And that was Christmas.
It felt off this year. Jo and I have chalked it up to 1) having started our Christmas music in September, 2) having started our Christmas shopping earlier than that, and 3) no snow. While I’d like to think the only difference was not the amount of “Christmas spirit” but rather the lack of the traditional rapid onset of it, I’m secretly concerned that my melancholy is actually a symptom of growing up. But that just might be me.
On the plus side, the day was relaxing and, while we didn’t have a White Christmas, we have snow now. This bunch looks like it may stay longer than 24 hours, but not much longer, if the meteorologists are to be believed.
It came in as sleet and wind (which took out power to many of our neighboring towns), but overnight the temperatures rose and now it’s heavy and wet. Fortunately for Mom’s nerves, Jo is on break and Dad’s work day is short. It took Mom four or five tries to get out of the driveway this morning because most of the snow came in the night and no one has had a chance to shovel.
I was just pondering the other day how much snow I had to shovel last year and the year before that. My back, at least, has been glad for the break.
Not to say I don’t like snow. I just don’t like driving in heavy snow or clearing it away. My dog’s opinion of snow runs along the same line, only more intense. She thinks she’s a husky deep down, and when she saw the new white layer on the ground last night she was off cavorting in it before I could call her back. If I can find an icicle anywhere, she’ll go wild.
The other creatures of the homestead, however, aren’t so delighted. Several of our chickens haven’t seen snow before except for the light dusting we had two other times this season. Normally when I let them out in the morning they pile out, but today only five dared the elements, and they all took flying leaps from the coop door to the feeder.
Jo’s old man dog hates any kind of precipitation and any temperatures above 80 or below 50 (we can’t think of a climate to which he is suited). In that regard, she and her dog are not alike, and she teases him mercilessly.
Much as I’ve enjoyed avoiding the work involved with a snowfall, I’m glad winter is finally underway.